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#because that’s something the og book series was missing

poisonpercy · 4 months

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Ok just finished the 3rd episode of the show. From a completely outside perspective without comparing it to the books, it’s a fine episode. The writing does fall flat imo, and it doesn’t keep my attention. It’s also still very hard to see what’s happening when it’s supposed to be dark. When will Hollywood let dark scenes be visible again?

Ok, now for more specific thoughts:

The scene with the Oracle sucked in my opinion. Idk it just seemed so much more grander in the book. The scene in the show lacked the mystic and off putting nature of the Oracle, so it kinda just didn’t work for me. I did like that they remembered that Gabe was the voice of the Oracle in tlt, so that was nice

How Percy chooses his quest mates in the show is different in the show than in the books. This isn’t a bad thing, but I do miss Annabeth volunteering herself to be Percy’s 3rd quest mate like she does in the books. Idk I just think it really showed her eagerness to prove herself and get a quest. The show scene doesn’t do that, but I’m not mad at the change

The interaction between Grover and Percy when Percy tells Grover he was chosen to go on the quest was so cute. I love those 2 boys. Besties for life

Percy telling Luke that he thinks the drachmas are from Chuck E. Cheese was hilarious

With Luke in mind, I love how manipulative he is. Like he is so nice, but it’s because he has ulterior motives. I do like that his manipulation is not overt, so you don’t know that he’s the one that ultimately betrays Percy

I personally didn’t find the “she met a pine cone’s fate” line that Percy said funny. It honestly came off kind of rude. It’s definitely something that Percy would say in ttc when Thalia and him are beefing, but not when he finds out about her death. Percy is supposed to be kind and empathetic, and he shows so much sympathy for Thalia and her fate when he hears her story in the book. Idk just felt like that line was ooc during this moment in time

Grover’s song was so cute and funny, it had me cracking up fr

Percy trying to get all of them to vote throughout the episode is hilarious. My boy just wants to have a say in things

Annabeth grabbing all that candy was perfect. It really shows she’s just a 12 year old girl that didn’t get to experience the joys of childhood (also, I feel like overall that the show is forgetting that Annabeth is not a stoic character. Like she very much acts her age. I hope the writers let Annabeth have more personality in later episodes)

I miss the book fight sequence with the furies on the bus. It was so chaotic and there was so much tension. Percy steering the bus and crashing it and the bus exploding was perfect, and I’m sad that they got rid of that in the show. The fight scene in the show was just so underwhelming. I feel like those should be the knock out moments of the episodes but they breeze past them so fast and give no tension. It just falls flat (curse you Mickey Mouse!! I know it’s your fault!)

I do appreciate that Grover keeps trying to diffuse the fights between Annabeth and Percy. They are both his friends, and he can see why they keep butting heads. If only the 2 would listen to him

I do miss how the trio finds Auntie Em’s in the book. Like Annabeth and Percy were dumbass 1 and 2 that followed their stomachs while Grover freaked the fuck out. That was so fun. The show had Grover find and follow the smell instead which is fine, but the og scene was better imo

That being said, they guessed that it was Medusa way too quickly in the show. I like the mystery of Auntie Em’s identity in the book better tbh

“I definitely trust my mom” <- Percy exceeds the momma’s boy standards

I don’t mind the change to Medusa’s character. I actually really enjoyed her (the actresses voice is so gorgeous and calming). I like how she’s like “we’re not our parents until we choose to be them.” It really sets up the ultimate direction of the series imo

Regarding the fight scene with Medusa, it sucked. To begin with, you can hardly see what’s happening bc it’s so dark. Also there was no tension or chaos. It kind of just happened? I also didn’t like that Medusa was killed when Annabeth’s cap was on her. I know it’s because Disney probably thought the death would have been too graphic or whatever, but I would have liked to see what happened

It was cool that Percy used Medusa’s head to kill Alecto

I felt so many emotions when Grover said “He’s not like the others. He doesn’t look afraid” about his Uncle Ferdinand

The beginnings of Percy’s and Annabeth’s friendship is so good. Annabeth not taking the deal with Alecto to give Percy over and killing her sister. Percy not taking Medusa’s offer to get rid of Annabeth and Grover so he can save his mother. It’s perfect. They’re going to become each other’s chosen person and they don’t even know it yet

LMM as Hermes jump scare. Still not a fan of the Hermes casting

Anyways, overall the show just isn’t working for me. I do appreciate Walker, Leah, and Aryan because they are perfect. They are honestly doing such a great job! The writers, however, are not. I’m trying so hard to think of this show as its own entity so I can enjoy it more, but I haven’t been able to so far. Despite that, I am excited to see where the show ends up going (even if I end up not liking it)

#pjo adaptation #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #skys post

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Pink Scarf - Part 20 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N: 🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded. You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips.

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

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stargirlie25 · 4 months

Text

Me through reading all the ACOTAR books.

ACOTAR: Ew Nesta and Elain are so annoying. This is going to be the best series, Feyre is such a baddie! Awww feylin so cute! DAMN LUCIENNN. I know she ends up with Rhysand but im not vibing with him......how can ACOMAF excuse this?

ACOMAF: Ohk feysands kinda cute but i dont think we can justify all that....Oooooo Cassian and azrielllllll! Awww i hope Mor and Azriel gets a book! *Goes to tiktok and finds out mor is gay* damn Azriel.OMG I LOVE NESTA NOWW PERIOD POP OFF SIS MY QUEENNN. Elain is there too. Ooooo Nessian. Elain and Azriel? I mean as long as its not mor! NAHHH GIRL DONT U DARE BLAME LULU BLAME TAMLIN! OMG ELAIN AND LUCIEN???

ACOWAR: Feyre isnt really feyre-ing any more :(.OH HELL NO SCREW IANTHE NO WAY YOU DID THAT TO MY MANSSS!!! MY POOR LULUUU Why feyre lowkey being such a bitach?

Awww Elucien is so tender! LUCIEN AS A MATE AWWEEEE. Damn Nessian making me sqeual. Lucien went away to find the queen from elains vision! OMG. CASSIAN IS SOOO FINEEEE, elriel is lowkey getting boring....Why is she disrespecting tarquin? He has ALL rights to be upset. Ok tamlin in the HL meeting is being pretty annoying and doing nothing but feyre did nothing as well but NESTA ARCHERON THE WOMAN YOU ARE!!!!! WTHHH HELION AND LUCIEN??????? OMG the war!!! NO THE SURIELLL. THE BONE CARVER NOOOO THE WITCH LADY I FORGOT HER NAME BUT NOOOOOO. THE ELAIN. THE FEYRE. THE NESTA. Omg i have no regrets in my life but this.Damn Nessian ur hurting me. NOOO papa arhceron diedddddddddddd. Damn Ok Elain and Nesta king slayers! Oh rhysand died........i know damn well he gonna come back......´´Be happy feyre´´ bawling. Omggg Lucien was besties with papa archeron???? THE ONLY FATHER FIGURE HE HADDDD DAMN WHY ISNT FEYRE TELLING LUCIEN?? Awww lucien and feyre hug! Cass and feyre are cute but i miss the og´s! Ok girl you flying.

ACOFAS: Snoring. YALL ARE CUTE BUT IM BOREDDD AS HELL. Ok literally no one asked for this Mor pov. Wait why did Elain invite lulu if she is uncomfortable around him? Her power? Elriel kinda gave me brother and sister but i guess elain likes him now.....HI EMERIE IVE HEARD ABT YOUUUUU!!! I just want my girl Nesta, feyre u are not feyreing.

ACOSF: I love nesta so much!!!!!!! Cassian is acting like Rhysands frikcing dog. I hate amren soo much. WHY is Elain acting like shes the victim like nesta told you to leave and now you crying?? Girl you are 23 years old! Ok respect azriel has never disrespected my Nesta. Aw nesta gwyn and emeries friendship is the best one yet!!!!!! Azriel is starting to show an actual personality.....With Gwyn? Okay Gwynriel is so cuteee *sees elucien and gwynriel theories* 100% on board with this!!!!! DAMN the Valkyries! I am so excited for all the other girls to tag along! Just imagine a MOB of nesta gwyn and emerie!!! Eris? HELLL YAHHHHHHH VANSERRAS FOR LIFEEEEEE!!!! YOU ARE TELLING ME CASSIAN DID NOT SAY I LOVE YOU ONCE? Of course nesta lost her powers and she obviously lost them for the sake of the main characters that im bored of :(

ACOA (A court of Azriel): You got her a rose flower......because she likes flowers??? Why is this man so insecure about his hands around her? That cant be right......MISTAKE? THANKYOU RHYSAND FOR STOPPING THIS MADNESS! Wow he just wanted to F**k her and thats it? WTH is Gwyn doing here? Ok creepy Azriel is gone and this new azriel is here? Aweee he is actually kinda cutie now and he is laughing? HE SINGS???? OMG SHE SINGS THO! His shadows singing and dancing with her??? Cuteeeeeee, Ok so he gave the necklace to clotho to give to gwyn, thats cute she does in fact deserve something beautiful like that but why Elains? Ig its the though that counts. SPARKED IN HIS CHEST???? THATS ROWAELIN/NESSIAN LANGUAGE!!!! HOW does her picture it proper?? Glowing and secret? Where the hell did he tuck the image bruhhh?

A thing of secret lovely beauty. AHHHHHHHH clotho and the shadows are team Gwynriel for sure! Gwynriel are sooo mates tho and i hate Elriel with every fiber in my being. How did azriel go from mr. creep to mr. melts my heart?

After finishing: Wow everybody on tiktok are elriels. They are so confident elriel is endgame? Hmmmm but none of their points make sense but i cant explain in a comment section! Maybe Gwynriel and Elucien isnt endgame :(

*Downloads tumblr*

Gwynriel and Eluciens on tumblr have their freaking masters degree DAMN

#pro gwynriel #pro elucien #anti elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acoa

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greenerteacups · 27 days

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Hi GT, I have a confession to make: I read all of the Harry Potter books and didn't like them, to the point that I cannot remember anything from canon. But reading your fic feels like I am getting to experience the magic everyone else felt when they read the OG series, so thank you for that!

I wanted to say that I especially appreciate your treatment of the female characters. Obviously you are getting rid of the weird misogyny and competitiveness of the books in regard to Hermione, Fleur, Molly, etc (I especially love your Molly, and the respect she gets from the other Order members is delightful) but I really appreciate it when it comes to the "reminiscing" parts of the story. It always bothered the hell out of me that Lily seems to have nobody who really remembers her? Like she was clever and pretty and nice and yet all anybody talks about is how cool James is and he has all these bros who would die for him while Lily had ... No friends? Apparently? Anyway sorry this is so long but I really really really appreciated that Molly, Lupin, Sirius, etc. don't just forget about her in your version, and talk her up to Harry as much as they do his dad.

This is a really incredible compliment. Thank you! It makes me incredibly happy to hear you're having that experience. It was one of the foundational moments of my childhood, and to share it with someone else is a magical privilege.

Lily is so dear to me, even though the source gives us rather little about her. I think it's a great shame that Harry in canon grows up mostly around his father's former friends, who happened to survive the war, whereas Lily's friends (we imagine probably the Gryffindor girls, so... Marlene, Dorcas, etc.?) are all dead or missing when the story starts. There's something grotesquely tragic about that, upon reflection: Harry is robbed of knowledge of his mother because of how the war destroyed her living memory. It's such an insidious remark on what death takes away — not just one life, but the memories and love that the life represented.

I was endlessly inspired by that one throwaway remark Lupin makes about being friends with Lily. It's really odd, in the context of Lupin's setup as a Marauder, that when he finally gets a one-on-one with Harry about his parents, his first move isn't to talk about James, but Lily. (Of course, this is on the heels of a comment about Lily's eyes, but like — Harry is said by many people to look like James, and if Lupin was James's friend first, shouldn't that have been the thing that struck him? Wouldn't it be "you so resemble your father, one of my dearest friends on this earth"?) And what was that kindness Lily showed to Remus? Especially since James literally altered his own biochemistry and risked his life in order to support him on full moons? I'm not saying Lily wasn't a true friend to Remus, but like — that's kind of a hard gesture to top, Lils!!

Between that and the goldfish story with Slughorn, Lily gets a phantom characterization as this intensely selfless, giving person. Problem being: that's not a personality, that's a character value. And we don't talk about people we miss that way! We don't go "damn, I'm missing my friend Lily, a noble heart capable of great kindness," we go "oh damn, Lily would have loved that joke," or "those were her favorite kind of pickles," or "I bet she'd have hated that guy." It's the ephemera of knowing someone that we use to feed their memory, and it's that ephemera Harry will never get.

#greenteacup asks

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caspers-delusions · 24 days

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Psych Whump Masterlist

💉💉💉

This is going to be my go-to list every time I find something with medical or psych whump in it that I want to remember. I'll reblog it frequently and try to keep it updated but it's going to start small because good psych whump is so hard to find. (This in no way endorses medical abuse, I'm a mentally ill individual but I love consuming psych whump in media. Just about everything in these movies, books, etc are at the very least morally gray so consume at your own risk. Also, I only enjoy these things in fiction. Irl it makes me sick to my stomach, I know bc I've experienced some of this.) I'll try to add trigger warnings for each one but I might miss some so I apologize in advance. If you have any recommendations please message me! I'm scouring the internet for good psych whump but medical/sickfic whump is also wanted.

Movies:

A Cure For Wellness: Guy gets tricked into becoming a patient at a "resort" that's really a mental hospital in disguise that uses its patients for nefarious means. CW: incest, medical abuse, teeth falling out, sexual assault, some weird eel shit ^^There's probably more but I haven't watched the film in a while.

TV Shows:

Moon Knight: Whole season of psych whump, the main character has DID and loads of past trauma. Has a huge ancient Egypt theme and the MC gets (kind of) forced to accept psychiatric care. CW: lots of ableism, mental break, psychotic episodes, forced institutionalisation, child abuse, restraints

Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten: German soap that's been running since 1992. The specific episodes that have good psych whump are from 26.5.2017 to 01.06.2017. Extremely hard to find online, only some clips/gifs exist as of now that are easily viewable.

Perception: Schizophrenic professor who teaches at a university spirals and gets put in a mental hospital. He has a caretaker friend who helps him and the professor also sees hallucinations of an ex-girlfriend who helps him solves mysteries. CW: extremely inaccurate portrayal of schizophrenia, delusions, paranoia, and really any mental illness for that matter; lots of ableism, I think I remember one character calling the professor a freak, people treat him really badly

Books:

House of Leaves: This book is a fever trip but the MC (kind of?? The book has multiple authors, it's honestly very confusing but it's great) suffers from declining mental health and spirals hard. CW: child abuse, lots of sexual content, mentions of a caretaker beating a child, mentions/delusions of sexual assault, death of a dog (it was brutal, huge warning), mentions/descriptions of suicide and attempted murder

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: This is chock-full of psych and medical whump, it all takes place in a psychiatric hospital (I've actually been to the one in the film! -Not as a patient) CW: huge amounts of abuse from staff, doctors, nurses, there's also a scene where SA is implied on a patient, the MC is there after being convicted of SA'ing a minor and he's pretty unremorseful (the MC is a dick though anyways), racism, ableism

OG Works (not mine):

Redwood Psychiatric Insitute: Forced institutionalization, great read and it has just about every trope I look for in fics all packed into one series. Please give it a read, it's fantastic. Source - https://www.tumblr.com/only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are/706656298337435648/redwood-psychiatric-institute-masterlist?source=share by @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

Fanfiction:

Into Your Arms: This is a Star Trek fanfic that follows a girl who has a severe eating disorder and mental illness. It's not the normal kind of sickfic or psych whump I go for but the aftercare in this is topnotch. Source - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185897 by moose-misses-sweets on ao3 CW: suicide attempt, severe eating disorder, abusive partner, cutting/self harm

Summarized List

Movies: 1. A Cure For Wellness TV Shows: 1. Moon Knight 2. Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten 3. Perception Books: 1. House of Leaves 2. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest OG Works (not mine): 1. Redwood Psychiatric Institute Fanfics: 1. Into Your Arms

Note: If something you made is on this list and you want me to remove it, please message me and I will. I don't check messages very often but it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, I just forget I have a tumblr sometimes.) *Extra note: this was originally posted on my side blog @ennead-of-whump but I'm slowly integrating that blog into this one. I'm now only going to be using my main blog @caspers-delusions which means I'm only going to update this masterlist post from now on.

#whump #psych whump #medical whump #psychiatric whump #recs #mental illness #masterlist #list #recommendations #moon knight #perception #into your arms #redwood psychiatric hospital #one flew over the cuckoos nest #house of leaves #a cure for wellness #new blog same person #gute zeiten schlechte zeiten

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zkoh001 · 5 months

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I haven't read Pjo in a hot minute but I just had had the most glorious dream about it, and I feel like, I need to share my feelings on the series.

Now, for context, I read them in the order of: Tlh, SoN then the first five books, MoA, HoH, and a good gap later BoO. I absolutely fell in love with the first HoO, the only hard copy I keep of the series, so I was a little bummed when I learned there was no other book of them (MoA haven't come out yet). I liked Percy, but had no previous connection to him, and I was more interested in the worldbuilding in Camp Jupiter.

All in all, my weird experience with this series makes my nostalgia much more nostalgically connected to the , and lost trio than the OGs, and I would proudly wear purple over orange, sue me. (Not saying I didn't enjoy it when I bing read the first five books before MoA came out. I think the chapter system was a huge loss in HoO) Now, Tlh is still my absolute faw, and I was a bit bummed when we didn't explore the new characters (neither Hazel and frank nor Jason, Piper and Leo) in favour of following two characters we already had a whole series on.

The prophesy is about Jason and Leo, Piper is their glue and mediator, so why don't we get to know more of them? Leo learning to accept his powers could have been an arc. Piper should have realised there's no point in judging Drew, or her mom for being more girly than her, and that it doesn't make her more or less. Jason was a kid soldier but we can't explore it, because we can't explore him, only the effect he has on others. Why doesn't he have any like... friends in Camp Jupiter?

I saw a post about how we could have had a situation where Reyna and Octavian constantly bickered, and Jason played mediator (mirroring his mew team, where Piper fills that role sort of) We could have had them be friends, to not make it feel like nobody even misses Jason... It could have made the falling out more tragic. (Of course, that would require Octavian to be an actual character instead of a generic concept, and then maybe I would feel something at his death other than "wait, what?")

Oh, what could have been. Alas, I know a lot were happy to see Percabeth, so I shall cease whining about what could have been, and appreciate that I still have Tlh.

Also, If you want me to share my dream, tell me (I prolly will anyways but oh well.)

#pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #the lost hero #tlh #jason grace #leo valdez #piper mclean #the lost trio #smh

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grumpylia · 3 months

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i hate to be a hater but here’s a little yap about ep 6 of the pjo tv show

- i was soooo disappointed in this episode! i literally got bored halfway through LMAO and kept getting distracted which was so upsetting!! because the lotus hotel is one of my favourite chapters of the lightning thief!!

- starting from the beginning; i wish wish wish that we’d gotten the ‘you’re my friend, seaweed brain - anymore stupid questions?’ moment because i just love that moment

- but if they weren’t going to give that moment to us surely they could’ve at least given us?? something??

- instead of just luke’s fan service-y ‘old married couple line’

- i also think the whole the trio things tlt is clarisse thing is just?? underwhelming. the show hasn’t done a very good job at making us really understand the stakes here!!! it feels like they’re just fucking around and i don’t like it!! like they literally missed the deadline!! and that didn’t even feel like a big deal!! that should’ve felt earth shattering!!

- also where was the zebra. where was percy being able to talk to the zebra :(

- i wish also that they’d done more with grover in the start of this ep - they could’ve showed us his character rather than just giving us a massive exposition dump

- the EXPOSITION!! i was fine with it in the first few episodes, bc like the book isn’t exactly perfect with exposition either but it’s actually getting to a point where i think it’s taking me out of the story!

- why why why did they skip the lotus hotel stuff??? omg! i can understand some of the other changes (e.g. waterland) but the lotus stuff would’ve translated soo perfectly to screen!! it would’ve been such a good way to build tension without having the characters ohtroght saying to the audience “this is the lotus hotel. time doesn’t move properly here, and if you’re not careful you can forget who you are.”

- i still can’t believe that they didn’t adapt the book this chapter! it would’ve been so perfectly suited for screen! this tv show also has a tension/stakes problem so it would’ve been a great way to help fix that

- also they’re meant to be TWELVE ! ofc they come across a hotel with infinite food and games and money and love it! the whole point is that across the series we’ll see them grow and become more wary of these things! i could understand why they made the change with medusa, but them knowing what they were walking into here just felt like such a boring choice

- and if nothing else the lotus hotel episode should not be boring!!

- also why are we talking about may castellan🤨the reason it has so much impact in the og series is because you’re putting these pieces together and then it all just hits you

- but here it’s just like…

- and hermes’! i don’t have an issue if they wanted to include hermes’ in this scene - cancel me but i think lmm lowkey ate - but i don’t understand why they would do it in this very expositiony way. and are we not meant to think that hermes’ is neglecting luke too?? at least until som?? if i was writing this and i reallly wanted to include hermes’, i feel like there are sooo many different ways to include him that would’ve read sooo much better. still brainstorming what those ways are, but point still stands

- i did think the taxi scene was really funny tho sue me

i hate to be a hater because i really wanted to love this show! and i really did enjoy some specific moments and episodes! but i just wish they’d done a closer adaptation of the book - i think they’re trying to do way too much way too soon and they need to just let the characters and the story breathe for a bit before trying to really go heavy in with all these really in your face themes and exposition

#pjo tv #percy jackson tv series #pjotv #pjo tv show #percy jackson #the lotus hotel and casino #ep 6: ‘we bring a zebra to vegas’

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ennead-of-whump · 24 days

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Psych Whump Masterlist

💉💉💉

Movies:

TV Shows:

Books:

OG Works (not mine):

Fanfiction:

This has now been moved to @caspers-delusions which is my main blog. I'll be updating the post from there

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lord-rosenth0rne · 6 months

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Went into FNAF with low expectations and I'm glad I did. Any movie that looks THAT GOOD with legendary puppeteers creating characters that seem to have just been pulled directly from the games will have some huge drawback to it and that was the writing.

Also, when I hear "it's for the fans" coming from Hollywood of all places, I know something's up. Something got Disney-fied in order to have it appeal to a larger crowd that may water down the content.

The actors were great, LOVED Matthew Lillard and his Scream reference, the atmosphere is creepy when it needs to be and the animatronics were just perfect. The cameos and easter eggs made it so nice.

The storytelling sucks. BAD. Bad to the point that I'm going to have to sit down with my mother later after she watches it and SHOW her (because the movie has a problem with telling, not showing) what her granddaughter, my niece is actually in love with that the movie skips out on, that being the horror itself. This is a HORROR franchise and it's gotten soft over its continuation.

The script should have been given to someone who was a fan of the series, particularly the first three games (can't say the books as they seem to have their own premise), AND a horror movie buff. The movie forgets it's a horror movie and doesn't seem to know what it wants to be.

There are a lot of key pieces I would have changed to make it enjoyable for newcomers while simultaneously being for the fans:

-Make this a series and not a movie. Mike should be in jail by the end of the movie with all the stuff they glossed over. Cop gets gravely injured and he and his sister are the only witnesses? With Afton "dead" and locked away, who else could have done it? The woman he's in a custody battle with is lying dead on his floor AND he has a history of violence and drug use? Yeah. No. This needed more time to deal with its issues or be rewritten entirely which I am all for.

-Garrett's disappearance needed to have a DIRECT line to the pizzeria instead of happening in the middle of BFE Nebraska.

-Nix the dream crap. Mike should have been killed the first time he ever fell asleep in that place. Next security guard, please. Though, I will say, if he falls asleep or he loses consciousness, they could have Garrett communicate with him to give a couple of clues on what he needs to do next and warn him to stay away from the animatronics.

-Speaking of animatronics, they're vengeful spirits that should go after anything with a pulse. Or at least any adult with a blindness for faces. While I can excuse how they acted around Abby, I can't excuse it around Mike or Vanessa. They should get the same treatment the idiots who broke into the place did regardless of who they are.

-Utilize the cameras more to keep an air of mystery and horror going. Maybe have Mike chase some kid through the place like Max did only to go look back at the cameras to see that he wasn't chasing anything or if he sees a kid on the cameras, he goes to find them only to find the respective animatronic standing there instead. Lean harder into the paranormal aspect.

-Have Afton's motives actually explained. WHY was he doing this? What was his end goal of killing kids and putting them in suits? Yeah, it can be a simple answer, but not one given in the movie. Also, have him more involved in the plot. Have him physically haunting the place as Springtrap. Having Mike ask him "Why" and him answering "Why not?" would be fucked up as hell and mirror real-life child kidnappings/murders. Grieving families do ask the killers of their loved ones "Why?"

-Nix Vanessa. OG fans remember when we had to piece things together through visuals. Not exposition. Mike should find out about the other disappearances through articles and such, even Garrett's disappearance which he could be trying to solve, and stumbled upon a golden opportunity when he found a Craigslist ad for a Night Guard for the very place his brother went missing. Besides, Vanessa has her own lore that wouldn't be in play until later additions to the franchise. Nothing like finding out the body of a dead child is hiding in one of the animatronics by "injuring" the animatronic to keep up the horror aspect.

-I would have kept the family angle with Mike knowing Afton was his father, he just used "Mike Schmit" to get a job at the place his father is protective over to investigate instead of "Michael Afton", given how common "Schmit" is. Afton himself probably wouldn't recognize him unless face to face.

-Bring in Henry Emily. Give a red herring that maybe HE'S the one behind all of it. Have him investigate at the same time Mike is and neither trust each other with that information, causing them to suspect one another.

You see, this movie would have been ten times better if they used what was already there instead of using an entirely different story with the same characters. They could have used old cliches and made them work.

#FNAF movie #FNAF spoilers #Michael Afton #Mike Schmit #William Afton #Abby Schmit #henry emily #FNAF review

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 9 months

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Comfort at a Crossroads

Summary - Part 27 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your eyes are burning by the time you push your laptop away. Squeezing your bunny closer to your chest you let the tears fall, letting out your vulnerability, fear and pain. As you’re looking for something to peg across the room in frustration, your phone rings. You pick it up on the first ring hoping to every good thing out there that it’s Dean.

“Baby?”

“Sorry, Kiddo, I’m not Dean. Sam called me. Are you alright?”

“Not really, Bobby. I just want him back.”

“We’ll get him back. He’s a fighter.”

“Hey, Bobby? Do you have any idea why the demon would have wanted my baby?”

“No clue, but we’ll figure that out too. I’ll make some more calls and continue to hit these books.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Stay strong, Kiddo.”

“Thanks.”

You hang up and toss your phone down on the mattress. You pull Dean’s pillow to your face and breath in the slight remnants of his masculine scent before pegging it across the room. Taking a few deep breaths you pull your laptop back into your lap. Bringing up maps you search for the closest crossroad. You scribble the address down on the complementary hotel notepad, slip your shoes back on, and grab your gun, knife, fake ID, and the keys to the room and van. Hoping that the saying Vegas never sleeps is true, you make your way to a nearby hardware store to pick up some spray paint, a shovel, and a small box.

With the items acquired, you go to a cemetery on the outskirts of town. You wander through the dimly lit graveyard until you find a newly covered grave; you scoop up a handful of the dirt and place it in the small metal box along with your fake ID. The only thing you’re missing is the bone of a black cat. You just hope you’re wanted enough for the ritual to work without it because you don’t even know where to begin looking for cat bones in the city. Back in the car, you make a beeline for the crossroads. Once you get there you carefully paint out a devil’s trap on the gravel before digging a small hole in the centre. You place the small metal box in the hole and cover it over.

You wait a few minutes but no one shows so you pull out your phone and call Bobby.

“That was quick, you got news?”

“Not exactly … I uh … I need to know where in Vegas I can get the bone of a black cat.”

“You idjit! No way! Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you!”

“I’m not talking about selling my soul, Bobby, I just want answers and if anyone has them it’s other demons.”

“No way. They’re devious and manipulative they’ll make you give your soul or something worse. So, no, I won’t help you do something this stupid. I expect this kind of behaviour from Dean, not you. You’re smarter than this!”

“That’s exactly it though, Dean would do it for me.”

“Doesn’t make it right! I don’t support this plan and I won’t help you. We’ll get answers some other way.”

“But, Bobby …”

“No, I won’t hear it! Forget it!”

“Then give me an alternative! What other option do I have right now?”

“Be patient and wait for Sam to get to you.”

“And what? Sit in our fancy hotel room alone? No way! I can’t sit around and do nothing.”

“Say I did help you with this frankly reckless plan of yours … what do you suppose Dean will say when he finds out?”

“I can handle him. I just need him back. Please, Bobby, I need to get him back.”

“We will. But we’re not gonna do it by bargaining with demons. You hear me?”

“Fine. Thanks for nothing.”

“Just go back to the hotel and wait for Sam, please.”

“Alright.”

“We will find another way. We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“You’d better be right.”

You hang up and dig the box back up. As you’re stuffing everything in the back of the van you hear a shuffling on the gravel behind you. You pick your gun back up and pull back the safety as you slowly turn around.

“You were missing a piece in your summoning kit … but I’m willing to make an exception. I can tell you where your precious boyfriend is.”

You fix your eyes and your aim at the tall, dark-haired, red-eyed woman standing a couple of metres from you. “And what? It’ll only cost me my soul?”

“Not yours … My boss has agreed to offer you a similar deal to the one dear old Mother Mary got.”

“He wants to come in and feed my child his blood?”

“Not exactly … he just wants permission. To do what, is for him to know and for you to find out … Maybe … Also, there’s no 10-year deadline, because we know it’ll be sooner than that before that stallion knocks you up again.”

“And what if we never have a child? We can render ourselves infertile tomorrow.”

“You could … but you won’t. You both want it too badly, especially after you got that all too fleeting glimpse. So, do we have a deal?”

“No. I’d rather give you my soul.”

“No deal. It’s permission to visit your spawn or no deal. Going once …”

“No deal.”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity … If only you knew what my colleagues are doing to your precious boy toy right now … So, going twice …”

“I said no! No demon is getting their filthy hands on my baby.”

“Okay, gone!” She clicks her fingers and disappears without a trace.

You replace the safety on your gun and slam the van’s trunk shut. “God dammit!”

Defeated and frustrated you get back into the van and drive back to the hotel. When you get back into your room you find a note on the floor, likely slipped under the door.

Y/N

Truly hope everything’s ok, so sorry for dragging you into this. Should’ve listened to you and got these tats earlier. We’ll just be resting in pain in our room, you didn’t say how much these were gonna hurt. Anyway, feel free to order whatever you want on room service, it's all on our tab, or come visit our room. We’ll check in, in the morning, for the keys, unfortunately, I got a flight tomorrow night so I have to return the van.

Andre

You put the note on the bench and lock the door before stumbling into bed. You pull your bunny to your chest and let out your tattered emotions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s dark as you walk through the abandoned factory. You’re on full alert, listening for any movement or voices, anything to give you an insight into where the monsters are holed up. You hold your machete tight in your hand ready to slice and dice if necessary. You look to your left, watching Andre as he walks parallel to you along the other wall. As you approach an interior door you signal for him to back you up. You wait patiently for him to reach you before placing your hand on the doorknob, but as you go to turn it, it starts turning in your hand. You shoot Andre a quick look and he holds his machete higher, ready to strike whatever is on the other side.

You take a deep breath and push the door inwards roughly, with all your strength, sending the person on the other side into the wall. A man grunts loudly pushing back. You step aside quickly and lift your machete to the man’s neck, noting the blood splattered over his clothes and face.

“Wait! Wait! Please! I’m not a vamp!” The man croaks out desperately against the pressure of your blade.

You release a little pressure on the man’s neck as Andre gets ready to jump in if necessary, while watching the surroundings for anyone else.

“You can check for yourself, Sweetheart, I’m human. My brother and I already wiped out the nest for you,” the man says.

You lift one hand off your knife and reach out towards the man’s face. You gently lift up his top lip to show his gums. “He’s telling the truth. No fangs,” you say as you take your machete away from him.

You watch as he rubs his neck where the blade had been. Another taller man comes running into the room with a blade similar to your own but stops in his tracks when he sees you and Andre.

“Dean, you okay?” The taller man asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding. These people tried to steal our nest but we beat ‘em to it.” The man who you now know is Dean looks you up and down smirking but you catch him.

“Don’t push your luck, Sweetheart,” you say mockingly so he knows he’s been caught. “Come on, Andre, let’s get outta here, this place is a bust.”

You turn to walk away towards the door you came in. Andre follows. As you open the door, one of the men calls out. “Can I at least get your name, Sweetheart?”

You just shake your head and keep walking. You both get in the car and drive off, but you can’t help but glance in the rear view mirror to get one last glimpse of the mystery guy as he emerges from the warehouse. He’s one of the best looking hunters you’ve ever seen but you know hunters are trouble.

“He’s trouble, don’t go there,” Andre says.

“He’s a hunter.”

“Exactly.”

“I know …” you say wistfully as you stare out the window.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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faiell · 2 months

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hello, nice to meet you!

i'm back at the top after rambeling about how i got into drarry, and so here is the fic rec: "genesis (you don't know what it means to win)" by crossourbridges on ao3. you don't have to read the rest if you don't want to.

i also got into drarry 20 years late, but let me tell you another secret: i've never read a page of a harry potter book in my life.

all my knowledge about it is from a friend that i like to listen to her obseasions and pick the ones i wanna get into (while i still enjoy hearing about the ones i don't). one time though she sat me down and we watched the movies, like 1-5 and i got bored at some point so we left it, but one thing that stayed with me was the character of draco.

i saw a sad, hhhhorney loser who just craves attention from EVERYONE, every gender, every house, the poor dude just needs to get layed, but without knowing the canon i'm pretty sure he never will.

that was a couple of years ago, and recently i suddenly remembered him bc i noticed i enjoy ships that are "a harmless prick loser and the misfourtunate everyman that the prick fell in love with, who is actually just insane enough himself to slowly but surly love the prick back".

and so i was like "i'm sure draco and harry are a ship. i wonder what their fanfics are like" and now for weeks i've been in this rabbithole of PROFOUND SHIT THAT MADE ME BELIEVE IN LOVE FOR A HOT SECOND, so yea. this is the reason i'm reccomending you this one. it's one of those stories that are the perfect length and much too short at the same time.

i hope you enjoy :)

first off, thank you so much for the fic rec! i will definitely check it out.

the journey of you becoming a drarry fan is a hilarious read, i'm so happy you shared it with me! hats off to you for being that friend who enjoys hearing about others' obsessions. we need more like you in the world. it's amazing that you absorbed just enough from her all those years ago to have the instinct to say AHA!! i bet people love making these two losers kiss! and u were right.

my turn! let me ramble (for even longer than you did) abt how i happened to the same drarry pit of "profound shit that made me believe in love for a hot second" with you. so on the contrary, i've always been a big HP fan, in the sense that i grew up with the book series and watched the movies. the books are why i became a big reader when i was a kid. i've always been a shipper, i always knew drarry existed, and many of my close friends were obsessed with it throughout the years--like losing weight because they were reading so much fic in bed their muscles atrophied kind of obsessiveness. for some reason, i never engaged. i was like yeah, obviously there's good stuff there, but i'm just not going to dip in.

then one day a few months ago (oct 2023 to be exact), i was bored at work and saw a thread on my home page titled something along the lines of 'absolute favourite fic regardless of fandom'. i was curious and maybe just itching for something fun to read so i clicked in and a highly upvoted reply caught my eye. the user's fav fic was the HP rewrite Mirror of Ecidyrue series by starbrigid. i was honestly really bored, and a draco POV retelling sounded fun, so i dove straight in.

i loved it, and holy shit it was long. i think the entire fic is longer than the og books? but yeah basically i rly enjoyed it, and i read it fast, finishing in only a week or so. i think ever since the transphobia bs happened i distanced myself from everything related to the franchise--i used to reread the books every few years, and i had stopped doing that. reading that fic made me realize how much i missed the world and characters, and how i could have it all again without shame by reading fic! i mean, starbrigid had basically rewritten the entire series and added their own interesting lore and worldbuilding, and that was even better than going back to reread the books like i used to. i also really enjoyed draco pov… i knew i definitely wanted more of that.

and so i went into the ao3 drarry tag to find more content, because i'd heard years ago from my obsessed friends that there was a goldmine of good HP fic there, and i never resurfaced lol. i feel like once u go in u can't ever get out cause it's a good ship and the writers are so talented, and there's YEARS, decades of content to catch up on. i remember also thinking that i'd be satisfied just reading and eating it all up (whereas i'm usually pretty active in making fanart when i join a fandom), but um, a few weeks ago i was like kinda like hmm i wanna see what MY brand of drarry looks like. so now im here posting art of it!

they are thankfully super fun to draw. i'm just having fun here, but i do have a small goal - i wanna draw fic fanart to sort of… give back some joy and show gratitude towards my fav writers. other than that, i'm here to chill and look at pictures and words of them making out.

#ask #oops this was long #thank u so much for the rec and ur lovely story about how you came to love drarry!#anonymous

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mitchelldailygames · 3 months

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Heroes of Song Devlog Part 13: Refining

Now that all the Exemplar Hero art has been revealed, I can get back to my main devlog series!

Here’s a picture with all the heroes. The alt text is a little brief on this one because I was worried about it being more exhaustive than the casual scroller was looking for, but reach out or look at my previous posts if you’re interested in more descriptive alt text. Art is by Warren Kennedy. Follow him on Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter.

My design principles:

The heroes are cute.

Kindness matters.

The world is weird.

Sometimes you don’t fight. Sometimes you do.

Health is hearts.

I’ve made quite a few small changes and additions since the last devlog that I’m going to run through quickly. I’ll probably miss something, since I don’t really want to go back and comb through my edit history, but I should be able to hit the main points.

Exhausted

I’ve added a condition called exhausted which makes it so a character can’t add any of their positive Aspects to their rolls. Exhausted is most commonly a consequence for running out of Effort. If felt like there needed to be more of a cost to using all of your Effort to balance it with using Spirit and to make it feel like it matters when an ability is used to damage Effort. It also just gives me more conditions to work with for special abilities, both for the heroes and enemies. It hasn’t come up in play yet, but I think it could be pretty impactful.

Slippery Scamp

I changed the Scamp’s Life of the Party move to the Slippery move. I think the new move is going to be more useful to Scamp players and is going to make the Calling play more like people will be expecting it to when they choose it. In my most recent playtest (which I will give its own post later), it seemed to be a good fit. It basically means you can crawl, climb, and squeeze in and out of pretty much any situation.

In the Works

I have some dual wielding rules drafted up. I think these are going to mostly revolve around decisions about what to hold in your hands. The main downside for holding a sword and a dagger, for example, is that you wouldn’t be able to also hold a shield and neither has the damage output of a two-handed ax doing a power strike. What I initially drafted out is a little on the complicated side, so I’m thinking about slimming the system down a bit.

I also wrote up a couple more runes. One is a Deflect rune, which I think fits the Zelda-like genre well. The idea is that you could knock ranged attacks back at the attacker. The other rune I wrote before but didn’t include initially was the Hood rune which would block senses like hearing and seeing. Both of these are a little wordy as currently written, but I think have potential.

I also have a couple more enemies written out that I’ll probably drop into the doc soon. One is a flying enemy. Another is a lizard-person enemy called a scalikin (which will probably eventually be a player option too).

Why’d You Have to Go and Make Things So Complicated

Some of the new additions, plus mechanics already present like the dodge/perfect dodge and weapon moves, make me worry a little bit about a pitfall I often associate with OG Pathfinder. In Pathfinder, there is a system for everything and I love it. But, I also come by memorizing a bunch of numbers and being able to quickly reference things pretty easily. That’s not necessarily the play experience I want associated with Heroes of Song and it just isn’t accessible for everyone.

So, I could strip things way back and cut a bunch of features—many of which make the game feel more like its inspirations. What I think I want to do instead, while also being mindful of bloat, is find a way to encourage tables to start simpler and add mechanics to their repertoire as they go. This is how it is handled in video games where new systems are doled out over time with a tutorial to go along with each new mechanic. I’m not sure exactly how to work this into a game book, but I think some direction about how to start with less experienced tables would be helpful. I might note this in enemy descriptions (e.g. the hobkin is an “easy” enemy, both to run and fight, while a sawshell is “moderate” because heroes will need to know how to use the stun mechanics to take it on). I might also include some tutorial encounters to go along with different mechanics.

Anyway, I definitely have a lot of work left to do! Don’t expect a full release of this game any time super soon! But I feel like I got some momentum last month and am excited about how things are going.

I also have some other projects in the works, so there will probably be other game releases in the coming months.

The world is weird; kindness matters.

--Daily

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpg dev #heroes of song #ttrpg community #legend of zelda #indie ttrpgs

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fan-art-ic · 6 months

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I still can't believe Rick did that to Percy that author really kicked the shit out of his oc not even letting him get a full school year of no war drama fucking his life over at age 16. Percy is only fucking 17! He would be learning about trig and failing to read a shakespeare classic in class, if he ever could be in class!!!!! I started this post to re write the hoo events let me re route

This actually got super long so ha! So glad mobile had read mores now

So what I think would have been great is if Rick really had to bring in a Roman camp and all that shit then I would have him START at the Roman camp! The first book should open with Leo, because he's already favored by Hera cuz she babysat him, having a demigod dream around the last day and day after of the titan war, because we are going to start RIGHT AFTER

Leo, however, is missing his memories and is on a bus with Piper, who is a daughter of VENUS (isn't the whole thing with, um not Remus and Romulus but Adonis right? He was a founder of Rome right and a son of Venus? It just works) and the bus is attacked by monsters. Hedge is a faun, he's Roman, and basically calls for back-up, the closest Roman patrol shows up but not before Leo has to fight monsters off himself. He kills one dramatically and Jason is the first/last face he sees

In this, Jason is not Praetor. I'd like to imagine he managed to beg off being made Praetor until he turns 16 next year, because the idea made him want to bite people and he did bite Octavian and Reyna. Reyna, in my eyes, is like 17 going on 18 while Jason is 15 going on 16. Jason has an oblivious crush on her and she likes him as a faithful companion, like if her metal dogs could give tactic strategy feedback and make her laugh with snitty comments. Much more student who is a black belt but not a teacher and then a student who's a brown belt. I don't know back on track that's why Jason is on border patrol and not doing boring Praetor things

Also that nicely sets Jason up to go through the war and come out the other side as the Praetor so he might actually enjoy it this time

Back from that commercial break, the first book would basically be the quest from the lost hero but with changes to suit the divergences I've made but still mainly following that plot. They return to Camp Jupiter and celebrate and Leo finds Bunker Nine, hidden in the San Franciscan hills. I remember reading something about Rome loving Vulcan but could totally be mistaken, but that all would gel really well. On Pipers side of things, Tristan has moved into New Rome after Enceladus concussed him so hard he is blind so the Mist isn't bothering his vision. It's really hard because her father just got horribly injured, but now can be with her more often and not do stupid films, of course he wants to return to Hollywood so it's a lot of tense non arguments and treasured quality time

Book 2 would then open with Percy, the entire book is a classic fully him book like the og series. Something like: Look I don't want to waste my time or yours, we both got plenty to do. You know everything since last summer back. The more recent stuff, this past school year was okay! I got put into a couple of remedial classes, and had to deal with plenty of remedial monsters, but overall August to May? No big problems. Even arriving early back to camp had been no problem. I did it to help all the other counselors and Chiron get camp ready to shift from half-gear/winter mode to full gear/summer mode with easily quintuple the campers ready to show up. As the only Poseidon camper and the living hero of Olympus' everlasting ass, I probably could have gotten away with not helping. Annabeth asked me to, so it was a no brainer. June though? Oh boy."

And in JUNE they get Grover bringing back two demi-gods (usually he's busy being a teenage satyr equivalent lord of the wild [HE IS 28 IN TLT RIGHT BUT THATS SUPPOSED TO BE EQUIVALENT TO A HUMAN 12! HE STILL SO YOUNG]) but he ran into these two and uhuuhhhhh needed to bring them right away. And it's Frank and Hazel!!! I love Frank but the fact that he comes out a somewhat legible and not totally weird character is a miracle. He is the son of a minor god, who didn't want him going to CHB because of the shit conditions for non Olympian kids but then Frank somehow befriended a monster kid but then the monster parents tried to eat him and now that he knows his scent has gotten stronger and just bc demigods can't use phone doesn't mean monsters can't they can text their cousins and be like hey fresh meat coming your way. They probably love playing mobile video games and doing crypto trading. Anyways

On the run, he runs into Hazel. She is our lost Roman! Hera took her time with Leo and unfortunately did a rush job with Hazel. She got memory wiped, but Hera ran out of time to set up her arrival to CHB properly, and just drops her in Frank's path. (Tangent: With Frank and Hazel, I've made my feelings pretty clear, canon ages can't date, at least not till they're in their 20s. Again, like that's not something I have a problem with, bc 3 years isn't enough to really view that younger kid as baby comparatively the age just doesn't match up till their 20s. but.......) given they are demigods, I would space out their relationship the full five years to the end of the second series, so she's 18 at least.

That's right, FIVE YEARS. don't try to fucking do all that shit in one year!!!!! You're saying Gaia is this huge big bad but in a span of ONE year where no one actually fights HER she doesn't seem nearly as good a villain as Kronos! He had the pizzazz!!! The villainous razzle dazzle!!!! Because he was given time (ha...ha). I expect at LEAST as much for a BIGGER BAD. It just fucks with the pacing.

Anyway! Hazel has always had dreams and a connection to the Earth, so she's enjoying the newly constructed Hades cabin (where Nico is really fucking confused but really happy?) And also having terrible nightmares and sometimes sneaking off into the rockiest area of the woods like it's in a stream but huge boulders like st peters village creek and she sneaks off there sometimes but that's only after sleepwalking there after the dreams. She is really worried about this possible...familiar.....danger and protective of her new family so she goes back out there repeatedly to think and try to meditate

Percy, both really enjoying befriending Hazel but also somehow the only one finding her suspicious, is working himself into a tizzy because you know how he is with friends and with Silena's death and everyone else's anniversary coming close he has. A lot on his mind. So one night he's out at the wider part of the creek practicing his 'waterbending' and generally being upset, and he does have a sense for Earth so being so close he can feel the small tremors Hazel is putting put and he tracks her upstream

Confrontation time

Percy is already freaked out and Hazel is already in a weird place so she thinks he's a monster through her earth sense, yes she can have that she deserves it, so with her eyes closed she send a little rock spike at him out of fear, which he thinks is her attacking, so he fights back, Hazel comes to/opens her eyes and gets frightened and accidentally entombs Percy. She's able to bring him back up after a second, but oh man that second was possibly the single scariest second ever completely pressed in by dirt on all sides. Suffice to say he gets more fighty bc that's who Percy is, but Hazel manages to freeze his foot and explain herself and Percy calms down pretty well. Really fucking miffed and still has shivers running down his spine every heartbeat, but he's a reasonable guy, a nice dude. He has also been having visions, and between the two of them, figure that something is going to attack this other camp that exists, somewhere on the West Coast, and by a Giant and it's army

Phew! End scene, sheesh. Can you imagine how fucking long this would be if I actually wrote it out? Christ in hell.

They go to sleep! As all good demigods should at Night. The next day, Percy and Nico shove their tables together and Annabeth crouched in as does Frank, because his parents cabin hasn't specifically been done up yet. Oh hm maybe he could have his mortal soldier (booooo) mom and Nike? Doesn't matter, he still likes archery and still eventually figures out his shapeshifter shit. His candle, I think I want that honestly would work better as like, if Frank chose to save someone and took their punishment and he was given that candle. Or something. So at brunch they figure out the pieces, and then when Chiron comes over they think he's going to reprimand their shitty pavilion tableware manners, but nope he just says Rachel needs to see them in her cave

NOW Rachel gets to make a nice little debut with her cave. I honestly. Honestly. Honestly can't remember how it went it tlh if they went to her cave or the big house. Ik Jason went to the big house at some point but it's not relevant to the current topic. Anyways I get to spend an ungodly amount of time waxing about a the artsy fartsy/hippydippy sacred oracle cave of a teenage billionaire heiress which I don't care if there's a kind of canonical description this is my Rachel's cave now. So that would be like, at least half the chapter, the other half is her giving the prophecy after winning at just dance 3.

Anyways then they have a prophecy so they are sanctioned to go to find new Rome! Given the dreams, Nico Hazel and Percy go on the quest. Originally it was going to be Frank but "There's no way I'm letting you go off on another quest with my sister without making sure she's safe myself". Oof, sometimes I understand what writers mean when they say the characters have their own voice sometimes. So whenever they iris message to camp, Frank and Annabeth will be (not) enjoying figuring out his demigod abilities and just generally Frank gets to enjoy camp a little (but barely because he's very worried about his camp crossing buddy being out there without him, despite being protected by two mega powerful demi gods and being pretty strong herself, he still wishes he could message her every day, but it's not practical. Only when the questers can afford to.)

Now in New Rome: Leo, flames, Jason, wind, Percy, with a real big cool boat, they honestly make short work of the whole Alaska situation. That's more of a side thing that Percy signs himself up to do. I think they get incredibly weird in the way a bunch of future openly bisexual men would as traumatized super powered teenagers with a duty and repression around other teen like them who are also hot. NOTHING really happens, Percy is SOLIDLY dating Annabeth at the time, and Jason is too Roman and Leo is too repressed. But yknow. Solidly gay lockeroom vibes like if any of then ever saw that one id magazine of the jock and skater dude their minds would shut down for at LEAST 2 meals worth of time. But yeah they just have a fun jaunty time freeing Thanatos.

Back to Percy, he is enjoying seeing Nico come out of his shell, but also Nico is acting strangely too, but in a completely different way then Hazel. One is entangled in something dangerous, while the other is withholding something dangerous. It's driving Percy batty because after getting paranoid about Hazel earlier he doesn't want to say or push anything, and Nico is his little brother, and Hazel is his little sister, so this is practically a family road trip as far as he is concerned (he hopes) (desperately) (trying to distract from the alternative). Percy doesn't witness this, but at some point Nico comes out to Hazel and reveals his crush on him, and Percy just picks up on "something" being different. Obligatory questers send off at the Jackson household, filled with cookies and great parenting. Really a good way to lower everyone's guard to all the bullshit about to hit their ass. At this point, they are just trying to get cross country, and trying to link up with the Romans and warn them. They arrive on the same day Leo completes the Argo and Octavian butchers, like, 30 build-a-bears. Special edition ones too. Nico, at this point, has left because Hazel is pissed. She eventually remembered Nico at Camp Jupiter and there's a whole thing about that (fun little throw in about Norse and Egyptian from Percy's experiences in the ensuing conversation) so soon as they arrive safely to New Rom, he leaves immediately back to Camp Half Blood, reports, and, I dislike Nico going to Tartarus and getting captured so for right now he has been locked in his room by Hades for mentioning even doing that and he is a having a gay fume

Back in Rome, Hazel is recalling her life there, she had been there for several years, she had a few friends, and Reyna had begun to mentor her on the horse before Hera kidnapped her. As much as she loved CHB, she had never expected anything else and had put work in to feel at home among the golden hills of New Rome.

Okay also while I'm thinking of it. The fact that older Romans don't serve in the army but all the trick or treaters do? Fucking lunacy. But I want to worldbuild on this bullshit before I yank it out: what if the divinity in a demigod is strongest the younger they are, the closer their share of divinity is to the god. this is how you can get a baby Percy killing a snake in his cradle. But usually this means that a demigods peak years is 5-18, instead of a mortals 18-30. Like, of course just because they get older doesn't mean their power completely fade or anything, and of course in examples of extremely powerful demigods no one knows exactly, but, just spitballing, that's why so many monsters come after the kids, when imo they should be stronger when they are adults. So they are just less tasty as they grow through whatever divinity they were given, like expired jerky instead of filet mignon. So the 15 year old demigod serving in New rome's army is going to be to an aged out demigod of the same parent what Percy is to usual demigods. Just that much more in tune. The alternative is totally keelhauling the system and installing adults everywhere but I'm disinclined to that option

So Annabeth and Frank are in CHB, Hazel and Reyna are in New Rome, Jason Leo and Percy are in Alaska, and Nico is MIA at the moment. At this point, the prophecy of 7 is given by Rachel and after picking up Hazel, the Argo swings back to Long Island and then onto Greece.

Nico pops back up in New Rome, with warnings and looking to apologize to Hazel, but everyone is over the Atlantic. He accidentally ropes himself in to helping Reyna as Octavian is getting unruly. I think my Octavian is a total bastard but he isn't conspiring to get Rome and Greece to fight he is genuinely fucking concerned about them fighting and is acting out

I don't get why Annabeth had to get the Athena Parthenos at the exact same moment the whole Gaia is awakening it seems very stupid of Athena, so unless I'm forgetting something this is my made up reason: Athena gives Annabeth the OPTION of undertaking it at the same time or, if everyone survives, doing it later. It would be best to do it now though because she will already be in the Ancient Lands and then if Annabeth is able to recover the Parthenos it will allow Athena to regain complete control over her Minerva form and then, she SAYS to Annabeth, she would be able to help the questers since she won't be spread in two different directions. THAT is what convinces Annabeth to try and find it because Athena's aid would be invaluable for the rest of the quest

Then, when Annabeth and Percy fall into Tartarus and the Parthenos is recovered, Athena is able to manifest in front of the 7 (five). She is expecting to congratulate her daughter and bestow her blessing upon her and give everyone else a little boon, but then no Annabeth. This actually really pisses her off, and when she notices Percy is gone too and asks and they say he DELIBERATLY went in after Annabeth, well this helps boost the worthiness of the sea spawn in Athena's eyes, although this totally fucks everything up bc those two are basically the power players of the 7.

I'm kind of wishy washy on the minutiae of the of the house of hades, I honestly only gave a shit about the 411 in tartarus so no big change ups for the 5 just generally their shit goes easier with Athenas help

Annabeth and Percy are going through it of course. My personal theory is that the rivers of the underworld mess with peoples mortal souls and bodies when people interact with them. the cocytus leaves a more lasting mark on their psyches, and the phlegethon actually slowly eats at both of their mortality. If a normal person tried to drink from it, their human soul would wither away (like peeing on a flower), but with their divine side much more durable, both Percy and Annabeth's souls are growing unbalanced. Percy even more so, as I think when the Styx blessed him it burned away all but that anchor of mortality, and then when the Little Tiber washed away the blessing (which is BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT) his mortal soul is already spread thin and that's why when they get to Akhyls, he is able to crack past his mortal barrier and develop his powers in ways he shouldn't be ABLE to. MY Annabeth, also, doesn't have that shitty reaction to Percy SAVING them. Her mortal soul is boiling and releasing steam vapors it will never get back, so her mind has both never been more tortured but also never been clearer and faster in her life. She is able to get Percy to back off, but just so she can manipulate Akhyls properly and get her to actually help them with Percy as the knife to the throat. In/After Tartarus Annabeth is very much the cleaning/sharpening/and polish to Percy's sword edge.

Annabeth also messes with Bob/Iapetus, poking at his memories and paving the way for him to remember Percy, but doing it in a way so that Iapetus which actually like them by the time he remembers. This is mainly to show off Annabeth being different from her usual self, to have a Percy pov of him being uneasy of Annabeths ability to turn someone around and re-arrange their thinking with just some conversation. This is also because I want Small Bob to go up to the surface and be her big murder cat and if Iapetus genuinely liked her I can see him giving them the cat monster as a token of good faith and fRiEnDsHiP but it ends up being something that gives Annabeth part of her humanity back because she realizes the real impact she had on him and now she has a monster pet to take care of just like her boyfriend (this set up parallels very nicely I'm loving this now)

The Blood of Olympus would probably end up being REALLY different just because the canon book sucks so hard. And I think I'd make a plot point of Zeus breaking the Styx promise to free Calypso, I'd have it become that all of this is actually his fault because by not following the promise the consequences were Gaia waking up enough for all this to even happen. Actually this would set up nicely a next series of dethroned Zeus look at how easy that all falls together fuck I love this idea. It would take so long to write though maybe after I retire I could write it. Also how stupid is it for the gods to work with their own kid against the literal BANE of their existence? Fucking switch up the teams!!! It doesn't make any sense to me and then you could get some really interesting fight scenes and dynamics like I would have it so Percy ends up fight alongside Athena and Annabeth alongside Ares, Jason with Poseidon and Hazel with Zeus, Frank with Hades more on and so on

For that last paragraph I wanted to elaborate so I looked up a list of Greek mytho giants, but it had so much more fun info then I was expecting and has lead me to realize that the defeat of the giants should be a collaborative effort between both the Roman and Greek camps and the gods that would truly be the best way to tie up the huge finale of evil bosses, would free up some of the huge hitters to actually fight Gaia directly, and would be a fucking great fight finale that would unite both camps under one banner of the gods and OOOOH THIS is so smart my brain is shaking like a chihuahua

And then yeah! Series wrapped. Take that Rick, longer time frame, more drama, more battles, and doesn't clumsily fumble everyone's character

If you have read this far I am kissing your cheeks and hugging you thanks for having fun with me!!!!

#shut up mitch #percy jackson #pjo #hoo #canon rewrite #MUAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS SO GOOD I HAD SO FUN

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crappyyuki · 1 year

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Bryan with lava eyes :DDD

It’s been a while since I fully colored smth :,)

Here’s the Sketch and the one with a background!

I attempted to make lava. I’m not sure if it went well lmao.

I also don’t know how to draw or render muscles but BUFF BRYAN SUPREMACY!

HE IS SLIGHTLY TONED BUT HE CAN FLATTEN A STONE FUCKING COUNTER THATS CANON FIGHT ME

Honestly, I’m not sure if I can write this AU. With confidence I mean. I already got like a 15k word outline going on and it’s still going and it’s been like that for the past 3 years. Yeah. Pretty crazy. But if I can’t write this then I might resort into posting a bulleted list on what I should’ve written in the betterment of those 3 years instead of making a long ass outline to get it out into the world.

I love this AU, you have no idea, but it is so hard to write. So bear with me. I’ll give a bit of insight into it.

• This is a canon divergence of the canon timeline where instead of Bryan taking the hit, it’s Molten taking the hit. (My guy is not having a great time. Both of them.)

• This AU is canon defiant to the actual lore in Bryan’s series. A lot actually. This is a bit more canon compliant to the Fnaf storyline. Focusing more on spirits and souls than portals and portal magic. Soul juice produced from murdered children. All that good stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I love the series but I wish it focused on the souls of the kids and their stories if only a little.

• Let’s say there are a lot of hidden secrets in the old pizzeria that Bryan would carry to his grave. Most of them is guilt. The other is shame borderlining to self loathing.

• “No one would ever believe you.” :)

• This AU’s pov is also on the animatronics side. Mostly Freddy, Helpy (the old one), and maybe probably Foxy (the Rockstar one) I miss them, okay?

• Pat is around too. Watching over the animatronics while getting deathly afraid of them for a definite period of time before making friends with them because wow, those robots aren’t actually gonna force them into a Freddy Fazbear suit. Why did they listen to a pre-recorded message anyway?

• Jon is the one that stumbles onto the secret. But its not complete. He wonders where he should find the other pieces.

• You know OG Freddy? How he was repaired? Yeah. That part wasn’t the only thing that brought him back to life.

• And the monitor Lefty stole from the pizzeria? Maybe Egg Baby? Wonder whats that for?

• The book that Bryan gave to Twisted Bonnie also changed. Still has the blueprints of the animatronics but of different animatronics.

• “Hmmmm, I wonder what I can do for Baby’s birthday? How can I make it her happiest day of her shortlived li—wait, can I even say that?????”

• Also, does anyone know what happened to Twisted Freddy? Did he just become the wind or what? We’ll see.

• Since Lefty didn’t die, let’s say Shadow Freddy had other places to be. And Twisted Wolf? Honestly forgot about that guy hahaha I’ll think of something.

• Oh! EB (Evil Bryan) is there too! Like actually.

• It’s quite funny to have two short humans going on offense while literal monsters go on support and defense lmao. What a bunch of losers.

• “See you on the flipside!”

• Hey. What’s up with Bryan’s eyes?

That’s all for now. Maybe I’ll post another one or work on a chapter? Who knows…

I can’t promise anything. I can only promise that the next will take a whileeeeeeee, a post or a chapter.

I still have not named this AU and marked it as INSERT TITLE HERE.

And to those that recognize that title, I am so sorry. I literally redid the first 5 chapters, finished 4, then dropped it off at chapter 7-8. Chapter 1-4 are finished but 5-8 is a land mine. I don’t know how to keep it going lmao. No really, it’s a struggle writing this dang thing and I want it out of my head too. I can’t promise any chapters or that I’m working on it because I’m so busy but I did not forget it if thats what you’re thinking. It’s just hard to write. Like really hard. That’s why I focused a bit on oneshots.

One things for sure though. It’s either chapter 5, 6, or 7 BUT—

Minigames. Plus Springtrap.

ITH!Bryan: Oh joy.

Feel free to ask questions about this AU! I’d be happy to answer! (Most of them anyway. Can’t reveal everything.)

#thefamousfilms #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf 6 #pizzeria simulator #alternate universe #bryan #jon #lefty #freddy #molten #foxy #pat #the glamrocks

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lol-jackles · 1 year

Note

https://tvline.com/2023/03/07/the-winchesters-recap-season-1-finale-dean-heaven-multiverse-jensen-ackles/

Lots to unpack with this one but some things to point out:

Dean identifies himself as a hunter (alias: James Hetfield) and explains that when he got to Heaven (in the Supernatural series finale), he took Baby for a drive through the multiverse in search of an Earth where his family had a shot at a happy ending. That’s when he caught wind of the Akrida, one of Chuck’s last creations to wipe out existence if he failed. With Sam still alive, Dean wasn’t going to let the Akrida possibly make their way to his brother’s Earth. So as he explained to Bobby in an earlier scene, he gave John the letter from Henry to nudge him in the right direction.

Jack shows up to warn Dean about interfering, but Dean argues that Sam deserves a good, long life, and if Jack wants to cast him out of Heaven, so be it. Of course, Jack gives him a pass and tells him to finish what he started. Dean gives John and Mary his journal, then warns Mary to watch out for a yellow-eyed demon, before handing her the Colt. Now that the Akrida are gone, John and Mary are free to choose their own destiny, which they do by leaving town together, and Dean believes that he may have finally found a version of his parents with a true chance at happiness.

So this did take place during Dean's drive in heaven. Robbie later in the interview even kinda admits they picked it because that's when Sam COULDN'T be there:

There was the spot that takes place in between Episodes 19 and 20, when what happens to Dean happens to Dean… So there was an opportunity to tell stories there, but that just didn’t work for me because we wouldn’t have access to Sam in that way, in a way that we could easily explain or at least emotionally explain, and that just didn’t feel like it was a story that certainly I wanted to tell and none of us did. And the other option was when he was, obviously, in Heaven, because we see him arrive there and he has the scene with Bobby, but then he goes for a drive. That was instantly very exciting to all of us in terms of a space for us to live in and tell our story.

But I think my favorite part of the interview is this blatant lie:

TVLINE | There is a lot of Dean in this episode, which I’m sure is going to please Supernatural fans a lot. What kind of conversations did you and Jensen have about Dean’s presence in this episode and his mission? Did Jensen have any strong feelings about any of the details? Did he have any ideas for this particular episode that you can share? RT: With the finale, [it] was really kind of the same talking points that Jensen had from the beginning, and I don’t want to speak on his behalf, but he was really very clear about he wanted to narrate, he wanted there to be a Dean story, but — I’m paraphrasing here — he didn’t want it to seem like this was The Dean Show. This needed to be a story about Mary and John. At the same time, he recognizes there is a strong desire to see that handsome face again behind the wheel of that car.

he didn’t want it to seem like this was The Dean Show.

hahahahahhahahahha oh ok. Looks like he's taking a page out of the heller book where he thinks if he just says something enough it will make it true.

I must have zoned out from all the freaking expositions that I missed Dean's alias name.

Yup, the show was intended to take place on OG Supernatural and then somewhere between the wildly fluctuation ratings freefall they switched gears and took the AU route.

I have a feeling that Robbie wasn't supposed to reveal that the phone call was coming from inside the house this whole time aka it was actually The Dean Show The Whole Time.

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